Rose: Sing John a Lullaby
by Blaze0843
Summary: Because he needs one right now more than ever.


It was the first time you'd met him. To be quite honest, you just couldn't picture John. His overall appearance, height, hair color, eye color... nothing you depicted seemed to match his personality. The only thing you had managed to hit the nail on the head was his glasses, but even then you'd only seen those through terribly blurry face cam pictures. They were never really able to truly portray his facial features. Then again, you can't quite see them now anyways.

The beast roars in the background, frightening you for a moment. It doesn't seem to notice you. If you want a chance to speak to him, this is the only one you're going to get. But you're scared to approach him. This is the same boy you talked to over PesterChum, but also an entirely different one. It doesn't go to show that he's changed, personality-wise, over the years. Smarter, braver. Definitely braver. Though, as quoted from him, "I'll never be as smart as you, Rose! You're like, the Miss Dictionary of words!"

And yes, the Miss Dictionary of Words doesn't have a single thing to say right now as you lean over his body, holding him gently in your arms. The smell is terribly, like rotten flesh, but you keep holding onto him. He wants to twist around to greet you, which is evident by his twisting motion, but he lets out a grunt, which tells you he's in pain. You ease him down, as if trying to tell him not to move. Don't make a sound. The beast is right there.

Although, it doesn't seem like he cares. He was just beaten bloody by his denizen, but he has a ridiculously goofy smile with his bucked teeth. It doesn't show the fear of a person about to die, or the regrets of a long life. But it does show the excitement that you're here, with him. Face to face.

Except, this would be their first and _last_ face to face meeting, and you know that all too well. You try your hardest to fight back tears, but John's hand charred hand brushes your cheek gently, trying to soothe you. Why are you the one crying anyway? He's the one who just went through a hell of pain. You've got nothing to cry over.

And yet, you continue to do so.

John tries to speak, but it's almost as if the fires burnt his own vocal chords to a crisp. All that comes out is a fit of coughs and chokes. The smoke from his mouth fills the air with a pungent smell, even worse than that of his flesh. You do your best to maneuver your hands around said wounds and lift him up, slowly so that you don't hurt him.

He eyes you wearily, too tired to do much. It's obvious he wants to say something, a joke perhaps, but you just shake your head slowly.

"Hello, John." You say, hearing the words he never spoke. Blinking slowly, you see him place his hand on your waist, and the other one on your cheek. He smiles lightly, as if he couldn't care less that he's in his final moments. As if he wanted all along to share those final moments with you. But why you? You weren't exactly the prettiest girl. Sure you were the smartest, but others considered you to be cynical. If anything, you thought he'd go after Jade. She at least seemed like his type. But no, he was a rebel, a stubborn loose cannon, and went after you. To everyone else, his crush was obvious. To you, it was oblivious.

And you only realize that now.

"Just close your eyes," you sing, a soft tune that dances off your lips like a whisper. John, either intentionally or unintentionally, does as you say, a soft grip on your body. He feels like a twig, completely weightless as you hold him. Although, that may be because most of his body mass is burnt to a crisp. You glide your hand lightly over his side as he winces in pain, but you do your best to calm him down. Leaning over, you bury your mouth into his non-burnt shoulder, so that you wouldn't hurt him and could still snuggle him.

"You'll be alright." You lie, an almost aura-like glow coming from your body. Or his. You can't really tell. Maybe that's your Seer of Light powers or something. You really couldn't care less right now. You have more important things to take care of.

"Come morning light..." You murmur in his ear, wrapping him by your arms in a full embrace, stroking him gently as if to hush a crying baby. Except, you're not sure if you're trying to calm him down... or you.

"...you and I'll be safe..." As you say this, his hand catches yours, and he curls his fingers, intertwining your hands. It almost looks like a scene from a Princess Film or something, as the two of you just stare at each other, holding hands.

"...and..." A whimper comes from your throat. Your fingers curl, fingernails digging into his burnt skin in a gesture of never wanting him to let go, afraid he'll lose his grip in an invisible fall to his death. And you'll hold on, no longer how much effort and strength it takes.

"...sound." You finish, realizing his eyelids have closed, a smile still curved to his lips. His breathing is slow and heavy, as if he wants to savor every last breath. But his last memory wouldn't be a breath.

You lean down and press your lips to his, your hand grazing his cheek. It's passionate, but not intense. You want to be slow and delicate with him, as if handling a glass vase. You want _this _to be the last thing he remembers, slow and steady. To let him know that you would have loved the idea of you and him together. The words you cannot speak are spoken by your actions.

After a minute, you part, and you realize that he's slipped away. You realize that your last memory of him was not his broken state of defeat, but what you felt from inside him. The beast is gone, to hunt another poor soul. But you stay by his side.

Your PesterChum has been chirping for who knows how long. It doesn't take any thought at all to know it's Dave, probably asking where John is. But you don't want to answer him. You'll have to tell him face-to-face, in person. But you can't worry about that right now.

You wish you knew a way to bring him back. But, even as a Seer, you don't have an answer. Your knowledge of the game is still limited, and no one has ever told you, or even given you a hint, of what to do. Maybe that's why you've all screwed up so bad, and why John lies dead in your arms.

Isn't it cliché how people blame themselves for their loved ones deaths? You always thought the idea was more than idiotic. More than half the time, they died a heroic death. There was no reason to think such thoughts. Yet, despite that, you're thinking those same thoughts you once thought were cliché. Turns out, it's not all that cliché to blame yourself. Because, if you'd just knew about this, were able to stop him somehow, then you could've stopped him.

But no, no, you mustn't blame yourself. There was no way you could have known he was going to do this. You just wished he had told you.

Your eyes close for a moment, lost in thought. It isn't really even thought, just... words floating through your head. You pay no heed to them, instead a blank look on your face. As if everything that had just happened now was a dream. At least, you hope it was a dream. But you know it's not. Your dream self is gone, after all. It's literally impossible.

You turn to John's face, that stupid smile still on it. His eyelids are closed, almost like he's sleeping peacefully. Another cliché thing to add.

But as you look at him, you gently lay him down to rest on the ground forever. You wish there were flowers nearby you could cover him with, but with nothing here, you make do. Placing your headband in between his hands, you put them by his chest, as if he were being looked upon by the holiest of gods. SBURB's players of Breath and of Space are now gone. But it's at this time you realize that.

And you know how to prevent this all from happening. You finally know how to bring John back to life.


End file.
